Fiendish Plot Sidetracked By Sticky Bun
by Kyer
Summary: Piedmon is out for Revenge against Gatomon! Ah, but the best laid plans often get sidetracked by other considerations. Duplication removed


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**Chapter 1: Default Chapter**

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Piedmon adjusted his attire and made sure the camcorder he'd hidden in his suit was still there, chuckling evilly to himself as he waited for the lone occupant to open the door.

He'd been very patient and waited to make sure that Gatomon would be away for the day. It was very important that she be gone until evening while he made his move on her property.

Wouldn't want the blasted feline to make a scene until after he got his revenge on the beast for what she'd done.

Yes… Revenge! For it had been the angel digimon who had fought and taken away his beautiful Lady Devimon from him.

Deleted her!

His love, his minion, his faithful henchwomon. Oh, sure---he'd taken another viral digimon for a domestic-oriented roommate, but that had not worked out as well as he'd hoped. He missed the sultry demoness! Her smile. Her grace. Her creative cooking. The way she kept all his harlequin outfits all nice and pressed!

Now he planned to return the favor, by permanently removing the beloved of Angewomon from the face of both worlds. Er… Gatomon. Or was it Salamon? (Darn those confusing hyper-switching digi-destined digimon! You could never be completely sure at any given moment if you were using the right moniker!)

He rang the doorbell again, wondering what was keeping the fool on the other side of the door. According to his sources, the betrothed of his enemy was only a minor digimon and a rather stature-challenged one at that. The detective's voice had sounded rather stressed over the cell phone static, but he had clearly heard the words "stupid patamon". With any luck, he should be able to waste the little orange furball within the quarter hour and still have plenty of time to make himself a kettle of Earl Grey before catching the latest Hallmark telecast at home.

"Coming!" yelled a pleasant voice from beyond the woodwork.

The door opened to reveal not a diminutive patamon, but a very short humanoid man whose features were obscured by a wide-brimmed witch's hat and cape that came right up to his eyeballs. The figure looked up curiously at his unexpected visitor. Medium jade-green eyes peered curiously up at the taller digimon, but other than for a bit of bluish-grey skin around the eyes and some blond hair, that was all that could be seen.

What was this? A wizardmon? Gatomon can afford a butler? Piedmon was surprised and a bit annoyed---Gennai was notorious for paying his employees dirt wages. He wished he could afford some decent domestic help. Unfortunately, Lady Piedmon had held their main bank account and… well… darn probate!

The other digimon looked equally disconcerted as he eyed the stiffly attired Mega at his doorstep. A piedmon? Had Gatomon forgotten to pay the collection agency again? He really had to talk to her about her penchant for playing DigiWorld Lotto and then assuming he would just make up the deficit by waving his wand or something. Besides, the I.R.S. frowned on that sort of thing.

The viral recovered his composure to question, "Is the master of the house at home?"

"Uh… that would be me. Can I help you?" the wizardmon naively asked, glancing quickly back inside his home.

That did it, Piedmon decided. This was the last time he was hiring that DemiDevimon as a private detective no matter how cheaply the little rat bag worked!

Coughing politely, but with a firm hand on the door, the magic worker repeated, "Can I help you?"

"Indeed you can, Piedmon thought, chuckling to himself, but you'll never guess how." He cleared his throat and tried to look innocent of any evil intent. "Uh-aherm. Yes, I'm Piedmon. I just moved into the apartment down below and wondered if I could borrow a cup of sugar?" He indicated the empty measuring tin in his hand.

The green eyes blinked a couple of times. "Really? I had no idea Floramon had moved out." His target extended a glove-covered hand which the Virus accepted. "I'm Wizardmon, by the way," the little fellow said cheerfully if appearing a tad preoccupied. "Sugar, eh? Brown, white, granulated powdered? Bakers, domestic or imported? Or would you prefer fructose? Unfortunately, they're stored away at the moment. Tell you what---I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, but I'll be glad to help you out in just a few minutes. Please come inside and make yourself at home." With that the Data digimon floated back to where a television set was featuring another wizardly-type digimon, the words "Better Magic and Spells---Call Now For Our Free Recipes and How-To Videos! Only $14.99 shipping. Each." printed on the bottom of the screen. Piedmon saw that his host was totally enthralled by what the show's emcee was doing, so he took a moment to study his surroundings.

Purple and pink seemed to be the colors of choice. Angelic figurines communing silently with fierce-faced sorcerers and assorted gargoyles sat on a shelf. Above that, a photography collage of a white cat in a wedding gown and what he could only assume was Wizardmon in an all-purple tuxedo, the Edwardian-style collar of which came up to his eyes. Included was a card with a picture of their acting best mon---an orange furball with wings for ears---beating the tar out of some hapless naysayer who had apparently tried to stop the nuptials. There was a note inside, which he shamelessly read to himself:

"Thought you might like this, Wiz old pal. Not every wedding features not one but two rivals fighting over who gets to stop the wedding. Patamon I can understand. I told you not to accept the sneaky so and so as a best mon! But who'd a thought that the bowling ball would crash the party claiming you were his long lost betrothed? Of course, he was pretty soused at the time. Still claims that bottle we found on him was tabasco sauce and not booze.  
With affection,  
Puppetmon."

Piedmon peered closer at the crumpled digimon underneath the Rookie's paws. Ah yes... DemiDevimon. So that's why the idiot had never returned after that last communique. No great loss.

Across the room, a bookcase was divided into a neat grouping of domestic and wizardcraft topics on one side, and trashy romance and mystery novels strewn about the other.

He glanced over the titles of the right side one. Nothing terribly interesting there. Third-rate hack novelists, Piedmon sniffed disdainfully as he perused the selection. Along with the books was a note card taped to the shelf warning someone named The Wand Mon of dire consequences if he should toss any of her reading stuff into the recycle bin again.

But what really caught the Mega's eye was not the assorted decor, but the overall setting.

Unlike the digs he shared with his roommate, Myotismon, (Who knew that someone who kept himself so impeccable would be exactly the opposite when it came to keeping house?), the place was orderly and spotless. Well… with the exception of the contents in the right bookcase.

From what he could tell, not a dust mote was flying in the air, not a smudge on the fixtures. And was that the beginnings of something pleasant wafting from the direction of the kitchen?

Shaking himself back to the matter at hand, he set his gaze back onto his prey and reminded himself of why he had come:

Gatomon's beloved must die and the cat suffer humiliation as well as sorrow!

The wizardmon was now seated on the overstuffed couch, mumbling under his breath as his fingers tried to copy those of the spell casting hosts'. "Why do cameramon never really show you a good close-up when they get to this part?" he complained aloud.

Piedmon smoothly took a seat next to him. Casually, one hand reached over to caress the wizard's long ponytail. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have really beautiful hair?"

"Hmm?" the Data asked, distractedly. "Was the last word of that incantation 'meringue' or 'harangue'?"

The Mega scooted a little closer until he was brushing against the other. He tried to aim his breath to hit the other digimon's neck, but the cowl his target was wearing was proving to be something of an obstacle. "Wizardmon, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Eh? Need a bite? Sure. There's plenty of food in the refrigerator. Help yourself."

His words were punctuated by a loud bang and then the screen abruptly went dark as gray wisps of smoke drifted up from the elderly set.

"Oops." Wizardmon looked woefully from the destroyed television to his tangled fingers. "Too much juice?" He tugged a bit dejectedly at the entwined leather that was trapping his appendages. "I guess I should have zigged when I zagged. Gatomon is going to be pissed. That's the third set this year."  
He tried wiggling the fingers of his right hand to loosen them from the left ones to no avail.

However, the main light fixtures promptly went dark.

In the twilight of the ambient lighting, Wizardmon peered at his stuck hands in bewilderment. "Well, that shouldn't have happened."

"I'd call it serendipity," Piedmon smiled, laying a hand on Wizardmon's knee and squeezing it gently. He quickly removed it when the 'face' embroidered into the jumpsuit growled, the zippered 'mouth' snapping at his fingers.

Great Kumquats! Attack clothing? He'd heard of protective chaperons before---but this was ridiculous! Dismayed, but not deterred, he switched his seat to the other side of the wizardmon where the suit didn't feature any snarling, mon-eating closing devices.

Meanwhile, the Data managed to light a thunderball. Soft, yellowish light glowed, creating weird shadows along the walls.  
Piedmon quickly waved his hand to snuff it out.

"I always loved the darkness," the Virus explained.

Confused as to why his magic wasn't cooperating, Wizardmon lit another one. "Well, you are a Dark Master."

Another wave of his hand, "True. But don't you find it romantic?"

Another thunderball glowed into existence.

"Not really. Gatomon is partial to having all the lights switched on."

Darkness again.

"I do. The Dark is very playful."

"That's nice," Wizardmon responded absently as he brought forth yet another sphere and peered into its depths as if it was a recalcitrant toaster. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a flashlight in your apartment, would you? I seem to be experiencing some major difficulty here." He frowned at his entangled hands.

Piedmon bit back a growl of frustration. Didn't the fool know when he was being seduced? How could he get his revenge on Gatomon if he didn't make the wizard fall for him and turn from her? He was still a good-looking hunk of digimon, wasn't he? This shouldn't be that hard to accomplish. Unless… It had been a while since he had courted Lady Devimon. Maybe he was getting rusty?" The Mega blanched at the thought. He had a reputation to maintain!

Spotting a stereo remote on the coffee table, he jabbed the 'on' button. A Heavenly Chant tape started to play. Scowling, he quickly flipped it off and turned on the radio, scanning until he found some circus music.

There. All he needed was the right atmosphere.

He turned back to Wizardmon, who was still working on getting his fingers separated.

"Wizardmon?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't you see how much I'm attracted to y-" He paused to sniff the air. "What is that wonderful room fragrance I smell?"

Wizardmon's eyes opened wide as he jumped up with alacrity and floated towards the kitchen. "My buns!"

Heh?

The Virus followed after him, licking his lips as the tantalizing aroma grew stronger. Wizardmon was trying desperately to get the oven door to open. "My pastries---they'll burn if they don't come out soon! Piedmon, would you mind?"

Piedmon obliged by putting on the pair of Harry Potter oven mitts and opening the door. The smell of baked goods nearly overpowered him.

By the Darkness! Cinnamon raisin sticky buns! A dozen cinnamon raisin sticky buns!

He'd LOVED… um… REALLY LIKED cinnamon raisin sticky buns as an In-training! Unfortunately, neither Lady Devimon nor his current roomie, Myotismon did---citing allergies to sugar glaze---and refused to bake them even under threat of being turned into a keychain.

"On the counter…" Wizardmon directed him. "Thank you for your help. It's not often I get a chance to make these."

Piedmon stopped drooling long enough to lift an inquiring eyebrow.

"Gatomon is allergic to sugars. She says that working alongside Kari already puts her dangerously near a hypoglycemic reaction from all the sweetness..."

"Ah," the Mega nodded in understanding. "Myo insists that anything dessert-ish will ruin my waistline. Now I ask you---do I look like I have a problem with obesity?" He indicated his spindly frame. "Would you mind if I…?" he gestured longingly at the cooling goodies.

"Please do."

Quickly, Piedmon popped one of the sticky sweets into his mouth and let the goodne- er… flavor melt on his tongue. By all that was unholy but the taste was positively SINFUL! He moaned in pleasure. "These are the best cinnamon sticky buns I've ever tasted!"

Wizardmon beamed from under his cloak, his blue skins turning a bit purplish as he flushed at the compliment. Gatomon had always just eaten his offerings with a non-committal 'thank you' grunt before heading off to her Ladies-at-the-Library romance club to read her version of 'literature'. "Normally, I'd take these down to share with Floramon while I aired the house before Gatomon's return, but since she's moved on…" he bowed politely. "Would you like to join me for a brunch of Earl Grey tea and pastry?"

Would he?! Piedmon was never so glad to have off'd a Floramon before. Maybe he really would move into that apartment! Or better yet…

Reaching over to grab another of the buns, the Mega laid his free hand over the others--- (Hand! The others hand!)---, using his power to separate Wizardmon's respective fingers from each other.

The Champion breathed a sigh of relief as he waggled them a bit to get the circulation going. "Thanks!" he said gratefully. "Gatomon's solution for whenever this happens is a bit more drastic on account as she likes an excuse to practice her cross-stitching techniques."

Piedmon downed yet another bun while his host started the kettle warming. Originally, his plan had been to shame Gatomon by seducing away her mate before deleting him in front of her devastated eyes via the miracle of video tape. But now that he knew that the Data was a closet gourmet dessert chef…maybe he could modify that plan a bit. "You know, Wizardmon, it strikes me that we have a common problem."

The Champion blinked at him from where he floated over the oven top. "Oh?"

Piedmon nodded, using a napkin to wipe the excess sugar glaze from his chin as he further decimated the wizard's handiwork. "Yesh… " *swallow*… "partners who don't…" *munch* "… lauk shticky shinnamon aison" *swallow* "buns. Whereas you enjoy baking them…?"

Wizardmon nodded enthusiastically.

"… and I enjoy"---grabs still another roll---"conshuming dem."

The Data scratched his head. "Are you suggesting…?"

"Heck yes."

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Later that evening…

"Wizzie, I'm home!" Gatomon called out as she tiredly entered their apartment. "Boy, can I ever use your magic fingers tonight! I am so sore from fighting off those creepy kids at Kari's school. Innocent little angels my---Ack!" The feline jumped when---instead of Wizardmon working in the kitchen---there was a moping Myotismon seated at the breakfast table, dabbing at his eyes with one of her paw made doilies.

"What are you doing here?! And what have you done with The Waa-er, with Wizardmon!" she demanded angrily of the viral Ultimate, raising her Lightning Paw gloves in a threatening manner.

A puffy eyed Myotismon just gestured at a piece of notepaper sitting on the table. Warily, Gatomon picked it up and began to read.

"Dear Pudding Cakes:

(Gatomon blushed as she realized Myotismon now knew Wizardmon's pet name for her)

We've come to the conclusion that the fates meant us to be  
partners in baked dessert bliss, so Sweet Pie and I have decided to float  
off together. My deepest apologies for leaving you at this hour.

By the way, there's a TV dinner for you waiting in the microwave.  
That's the box thingy under the wall cabinets with all the buttons  
bunched on one side."

Sincerely,  
Wizardmon

She stared stupidly at the writing for several seconds before crossing to the 'box thingy' indicated in the note and found that---yes indeed---there was in fact a tuna casserole TV dinner nestled inside. Hadn't had one of those since marrying Wizzie. She pulled it out and carefully peeled back the liner.

"Hmmm."

Myotismon cleared his throat. "I got one too… a 'Dear Myo" from Piedmon." He wailed piteously, "We've been dumped!"

Gatomon tasted the tuna fish. It actually tasted like tuna---just like she remembered. No sauces. No pimentos, no cross-mixing of exotic spices to cover the fish taste. Just good old tuna. Oh, she'd miss her mate. No one gave massages like he did; but Wizardmon's cooking had tended to be a lot more fancy then she really cared for and how expensive could it be to hire a masseur anyway?

"Care to stay and watch a movie with me? There's a dramatization of-"

"Flashing Fists and Roadside Romance by MarySuemon? I know."

"You do?"

"My favorite author."

The feline's blue eyes widened. "Mine too! I've got every novel she ever wrote---save the one Wizardmon managed to shred before I set him straight."

The vampire sighed. "Piedmon calls it lowbrow trash. He prefers plays and opera."

Gatomon's nose wrinkled. "Wizardmon just wants to watch the Home Wizard's Cable Network." She stared thoughtfully at her TV dinner. "You know… If you've got any popcorn, I can pay for the pizza delivery."

"Double pepperoni?"

"With anchovies."

"It's a deal!"

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Yes, I know.  
All I can say is I was bored and overly influenced by a friend's work.  
If you must flame, flame quietly.


End file.
